On the first day after returning from the army, someone charged me protection money for setting up a street stall. He didn't fight back because it wasn't time yet. From the train station to Nansantiao, from Nansantiao to Shijiazhuang. Steel, bathhouses, nightclubs, he ate his opponents one after another. Zhao Changhe fought with him for ten years and finally gave up by the Hutuo River. Someone asked him why. He flicked the ashes of his cigarette: I have the final say in the rules here.
